She rolled over to find him gone, her sleeping bag hers alone again – and yet somehow intolerably empty. Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, she finally determined that the dark figure in the midst of the sunlight streaming through the cave entrance had to be him. "Sir?"
The figure turned in silhouette, the light from the fire unable to vie with the almost supernatural brilliance behind him. "Morning."
"Everything okay, sir?"
Her eyes were just barely beginning to adjust to the odd lighting when he turned his back on her again. He said something that she didn't really catch in the echoes of the cavern.
"What was that?"
He turned halfway back. "I said, it's too cold to snow."
Keeping the sleeping bag pulled tightly around her shoulders, she struggled to sitting. "Technically, sir, it's never too cold to snow. It's just that air can hold less moisture the colder it gets. And it's a difference in temperature, like the strong cold front we had, that creates the loft necessary for precipitation to form, although the air usually dumps most of the moisture on the windward side of-"
"Shut up, Carter."
"Yes, sir."
"C'mere." His eyes still intently on something outside the cavern, he held an inviting arm back toward her. Reluctant to leave her cozy little wrap but intrigued by his behavior, she slid free and padded past the fire to the entrance of the cave. And gasped.
It had snowed overnight – and not just a little. The entire landscape was blanketed in several inches of it, clean, totally undisturbed white. It sat daintily atop the tree branches, drifted across the mountains, swirled gently in the breeze. And best of all, it was composed of the tiny flakes that shimmered like diamonds in the sunlight – like the most beautiful of her mother's snow globes.
Nothing in Colorado Springs could compare to the miles and miles of still, white perfection, and she knew she'd never see anything like it again.
"Merry Christmas, Carter." His hand landed warmly at the small of her back and made her smile.
"Merry Christmas, sir."